Clashed Principles
by AfterTheEndM
Summary: John works in a well known restaurant on Campus called the TumblrInn. When he one day meets Sherlock, the two find a spark unlike any before. But what happens when Sherlock realizes John's becoming more than just a spark, and a friend? A fluffy romance filled with laughs, and cries. JohnlockX
1. Chapter 1

_Clashed Principles _

Chapter 1-

He was late. No matter how fast he seemed to throw on his uniform, and his coat, he was going to be late. John had ignored his alarm this morning, pressing the snooze button about five or six times. It was on the seventh that he fretfully realized he needed to be at his job in five minutes.

"John, what are you running 'bout the room for?" Steven, his roommate, sat up in his bed, and looked at him, blinking sleepily.

"I'm late for work." John slipped on his black pants, and tried to straighten his name tag. He had been working at a well-known restaurant on campus for two weeks now, The TumblrInn. Most of the students went there in the early morning for breakfast, John's scheduled time.

"Why are you late in the first place?" Steven sat up, smirking at him. John stopped a moment to throw a pillow, which hit Steven directly in the face.

"Shut it Moffat." He briefly heard Steven call him a prick before falling back into the blankets. Throwing on his blue jumper, he threw open the door, and ran out. Luckily the walk was a good ten minutes from campus. Running, he could probably make it in five. Breathing harshly he ran down the hallways of the dorm rooms. When he entered the campus, he'd have to go a bit slower. The teachers here were disastrous.

Devein was the best campus John had ever heard of. He had gotten in on an educational scholar ship. His dream was to become a doctor, maybe go to the army. He wasn't quite sure about the army yet, but he'd figure it out.

"John, you're late!" Greg opened the back door, and John walked in. He relished a moment in the cool air. It was much more humid than he thought it would be. Throwing his jumper off to the side, he pulled on the customary waiters wear, and waited for further instructions.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be. I stayed up the night before working on an essay." He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepishly grinning. Greg rolled his eyes before thumping John on the back.

"If you were anybody else, I'd have fired you. You're lucky we're friends. Now get to work. A table is waiting to be served." Greg Lestrade had been John's friend since Kindergarten. He wanted to work in Scotland Yard. Detective Inspector Lestrade, John thought it sounded pretty good. Then he would be Doctor Watson. "John, stop bloody day dreaming, and get to work." John jerked, but immediately stepped out of the kitchen.

Like always it was pretty full, people chatted at some tables, or worked at others. The atmosphere was very heart-warming, something John had very much liked when he started working here. He had been here first as a customer, with Steven. Greg had already been working there, and showed them around a bit. With one breakfast there, John was hooked, and Greg let him work there. He was manager of the place.

"Hello, what can I get you?" He stopped at his first table, note pad out and ready. When he didn't get a response, he lowered it, looking at the customers. He had to bite his lower lip to keep from snickering. Two men sat there, glaring at each other, hands pressed to the table. The obviously younger one had bright blue eyes, and curly brown hair. The older on had auburn colored hair, and brown eyes. John couldn't practically feel the tension through the air.

"Excuse me, do you two, want anything?" John shifted on his feet now, tilting his head to the side confused. Why was there so much tension?

"No," The younger one snapped. John had to flight his flinch, he merely blinked at the guy.

"I'm sorry, what Sherlock means to say is we have our orders ready." The older one looked at John.

"What, Mycroft means to say is we are leaving." The younger one, Sherlock snapped. John stepped back a bit to allow Sherlock to pass, but Mycroft tugged him back down into the seat.

"I'll take some coffee, black, please." Mycroft all but hissed. John wasn't sure whether or not to take the order, or walk away. Chewing the inside of his cheek, he wrote down the order, and then hesitantly looked at Sherlock.

Sighing in reluctance Sherlock glanced at John. "I'll just have some Lemon tea." John nodded, scribbling down the order with his pen. "Why were you late today?" John flinched, and peered upward.

"Excuse me?" John quietly asked. How had he known that? John had never met either of these two before.

"I asked, why were you late, are you deaf?" Sherlock snapped. John blinked a couple times, dumbfounded. John could feel Sherlock's eyes scrutinizing him him up, and down.

"Sherlock, stop it." Mycroft sighed. John stepped back, before turning to get the drinks. His cheeks felt heated, and his heart beat against his chest, vibrating through his ribs. How had Sherlock known he was late? Had someone told him? Did he know who John was? Sherlock, and Mycroft were odd names, John would have remembered meeting them. He took a deep breathe, before getting the drinks ready, and heading to other tables.

When he went back to Sherlock, and Mycroft's table, he saw the two were heatedly talking. They straightened when John came back. "One black coffee and lemon tea. Will you be ordering anything else?" He questioned politely. He didn't even think he was freaked out that Sherlock knew he was late. He must have heard it from someone.

The TumblrInn was starting to slow down a bit, people going to classes, and others just ordering drinks. John liked this period of time because it was quiet. "No, that will be all."

"Will Molly be back next time?" Sherlock suddenly asked. John didn't really know who Molly was. He thought about it a moment before remembering.

"Oh, she's signed up for other hours. She'll be working evening times now." John remembered because he used to see her. He was working her area now. That's why he had never seen Sherlock, or Mycroft before. Sherlock sighed, and leaned back in his seat.

"Sherlock, stop being childish. I don't think losing a waitress is going to end you." Mycroft narrowed his eyes at Sherlock, who pouted. John almost laughed, _almost_.

"She memorizes my orders, and takes them too me." Sherlock pursed his lips, and looked the opposite direction of John.

John sighed. "I don't think it will be hard to memorize lemon tea." Sherlock sat up then, and John stumbled back in surprise.

"Give me your notepad."

"What." John stared at Sherlock, well more like looked up. The man looked like he was on stilts. John cursed his short genes.

"Give me your notepad; are your ears broken or something?" Sherlock seemed bored now, gloved hand held out. "I'll be requiring a test to prove your worth." John gritted his teeth, looking at Mycroft. Mycroft didn't look like he was going to reprehend Sherlock this time though.

John closed his eyes a moment before handing his notepad to Sherlock. Sherlock seemed pleased, and rocked back on his feet. "I would like my eggs cooked to the degree where the yoke is not runny, not is it too hard. I'd like a perfect medium. One teaspoon of salt will be required for both of the eggs. I change my preference of sausage each day, today you can pick, seeing as I feel generous. I only require that they are cooked, not burnt. Last but not least my pancakes will be fluffy, but not gooey, nor hard as a rock." Sherlock finally finished, a smile curving at his lips. "Finally, my usual lemon or earl gray tea."

Sherlock stopped, and looked at John. John was mulling over Sherlock's words, trying to remember them all. He had talked quickly enough that it would be hard. Mycroft was looking at John from the corner of his eye, hand touching his umbrella ready to leave if John failed.

"Two eggs, cooked at a perfect medium, with a teaspoon of salt distributed evenly on both. Today I think I'll do sausage patties, seeing as those are the ones we have in stock. You want pancakes that are not gooey, not burnt at the edges. I've already served you your lemon tea so that should suffice." He paused before turning around, back facing Sherlock.

"Table four ordered a cheeseburger, odd enough order in the early morning. There should be Lettuce, and tomato, no pickles or ketchup, but a good amount of mustard. They also ordered cheese fries, but not the usual salt. The man sitting next to her ordered the all you can eat pancakes, with strawberry's but blueberry syrup." He turned to another table, his anger getting the best of him.

"The other table I got before I came over here, table seven, ordered the little farmers breakfast, all six of them. The first three are having bacon to a crisp, but one doesn't want the butter on the pancakes. The other requires three bottles of maple syrup. The other three got sausage patties, two got blueberry syrup, the other strawberry. There will be no butter on the last two, but the other wants four cups of butter." He turned back to Sherlock, who looked actually surprised.

"Now, as you can see my memory works quite well. I can remember an order with ease. So I'd appreciate it, if you didn't sit there acting like a smug prick." He ended with a huff, before straightening out his nametag. "Now if you don't mind I have some orders to tell the chef. Please, feel free to stay, your food will be out soon."

John reached over to Sherlock, snatching back his notepad, before heading to the kitchens. Pride swelled in his chest, but when he opened the kitchen doors, he immediately slumped on the wall. His mouth felt dry. He had never been so rude before. He'd always been nice to other people. Sherlock had been so annoying he had just exploded.

"You okay, Watson?" Greg came up to him, crouching down. "I saw what you did to the Holmes boys out there. I'm not going to lie, they had it coming."

"You're not mad then?" John asked in utter surprise. You were never supposed to deal with customers like that.

"They are always like that. You've never met em?"

John shook his head slowly. "Well, they both go here, even though Mycroft it quite a bit older." John's eyes widened a fraction. They were brothers? "They are the smartest boys I've ever seen. Sherlock can deduce things, literally tell your life story looking at you for five seconds. Mycroft is not quite like that, but he can get a good read." Greg shook his head, eyes clouded with annoyance.

"So, you've met them then?" John smiled a bit, knowing bot many people too ruffle Greg's fur.

"When we were running low on staff, I served Sherlock's table. They usually don't eat together, Mycroft and Sherlock. From what I can tell, they have a lot of family rivalry. He deduced that I was incapable of holding a stable relationship, and I had family problems by the way I shaved." Greg stood up, and shrugged. "He doesn't have any friends, and it's no wonder why. However, you are the first to do, _that_."

For the next couple minutes, John sat in silence. That is, until the Holmes's food was ready. Dreading every step, he got out there, and to his surprise saw just Sherlock waiting for him. Mycroft didn't seem to be anywhere. "Where's your brother?" He asked, and winced when he heard the bitterness in his own voice.

"Oh, Mycroft had some government business to take care of." Sherlock inspected his tea cup. John set down the food, and stepped back.

"He works for the government?" John thought, he'd still been in school.

"He _is_ the government." Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "And he does still go to school."

"How can you do that?" John asked, taking a seat in front of Sherlock. He knew he probably shouldn't, but he was too curious. Sherlock looked down at his food, and then looked up at John.

"I just notice the tiny details, and I piece it all together. I deduce others thoughts by their expressions, and actions." Sherlock actually looked a bit surprised that John would even care.

"How did you know I was late?" John leaned forward, trying to imagine how Sherlock saw these things.

Sherlock's lips turned at the corners in amusement. "Your appearance was ruffled, and you spoke quickly like you needed to hurry things along. I also know that you hit the snooze button a couple of times this morning, maybe six or seven. I know this because there is dust lining your finger. You are obviously usually on time, but not this morning. I'm guessing you were up writing an essay. There is pen ink along your palm and fingers as well." Sherlock stopped as though he'd been too into it. He picked up his fork, and slowly ate some of the egg.

"That's- brilliant."

"Really?"

"Yes, it was absolutely brilliant." John nodded, eyes drawn to the table. It seemed so impossible.

"That's not what most people say." Sherlock admitted slowly.

"What do most people say?" John questioned. He didn't think he minded Sherlock all that much. Sure, he was a total ponce, but he was interesting.

"Piss off."

John rolled his eyes, and stood up. He needed to get back to work. "Goodbye Sherlock."

"Goodbye John." John didn't even question how Sherlock knew his name.

[OoO]

**Authors Note: Thank you for reading Chapter 1 of Clashed Principles. I would really appreciate some follows, favorites, and reviews! Please tell me what you would like to see if future chapters, or any ideas you may have. Thanks again. I appreciate everything!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note: Ohmygawsh, the reviews! I honestly thought I wouldn't get any, but you guys surprised me. You're all so nice. Anyway, because I got such positive feedback, I felt more motivated, and that is why I'm doing the next chapter. I don't own Sherlock or any of its characters. Here we are Chapter 2 of Clashed Principles. **

[OoO]

_Clashed Principles _

Chapter 2-

It was on a Friday morning, a week after he'd met Sherlock that John was assigned to work the café inside the TumblrInn. He hadn't worked for a week due to all the homework he had. Now that he was back, Greg was assigning him to the things nobody else wanted to work.

The café was empty on early mornings like this. It was pointless to work it, and John kept swerving on his feet. His temples ached and his eyes drooped from lack of sleep. Humming a song from the radio he'd heard last night, he looked at the clock. He still had another hour to go. John closed his eyes again, groaning soundly.

"Where have you been?"

John straightened up, eyes opening. He was leaning against the cash register heavily. Yawning, he tried to blink out the sleep, and was surprised to see Sherlock.

"I've been studying for an exam in my class. Do you usually come here?" From what Greg told him, the Holmes brother only went into the main restaurant every other morning. They usually sat at separate tables. _Nobody_ went to the café at this time of day. It was completely empty except for Sherlock, and John.

"No." Sherlock said simply. John bit his lower lip, and nodded. What was he supposed to say to that?

John waited for him to say something, but he seemed perfectly intent on saying nothing at all. They just sat in a heavy silence, making John slightly uncomfortable.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

And….Nothing.

"Did you- uh, need something?" John drummed his fingers against the counter, looking up at the ceiling. He was pretty determined not to meet Sherlock's sharp blue eyes. He didn't even know the bloke very well.

"I suppose since I'm here. I'll take some black coffee with two pumps of hazelnut crème, and a pack of sugar. Please." Sherlock popped the 'P', and John narrowed his eyes.

He waited for anything else, but Sherlock remained silent. "Alright then, I'll get that for you." John took out the cup, and put the pumps of hazelnut crème into the bottom. It's easy enough just pouring the black coffee, and then adding a pack of sugar. He put on the cap, and then set it on the counter.

John's about to tell him how much it is, but he closes his mouth again when Sherlock just hands me the correct amount, along with an insanely large tip. "You're insane. I'm not accepting a tip this big." The tip is twice as large as the actual purchase. John flushes slightly when he remembers he does need this money. His scholarship only lasted four years. He'd need enough money to continue medical school.

"It's perfectly acceptable. Most people would just take the money you know." Sherlock seems amused. "I have to go, nice seeing you John." He grabs the cup before John can make another protest. Sherlock leaves quickly, his black coat flowing restlessly behind him, and he's out the door in mere seconds. John- for once- is speechless.

[OoO]

The day after that, John is working his usual shift at the TumblrInn. It's the main restaurant, and for once it's quite slow. Molly is working today too, so they're running the counters together.

"He's been acting awful strange lately." Greg said from behind John. John looked up in time to see Sherlock walking through the door, completely oblivious to the gossip about him. "He usually doesn't come this much."

"Sherlock's been coming more lately?" Molly blushed a bright red, and bounced on the tips of her feet. "Do I look okay John?" Molly turns to him, eyelashes fluttering. John leaned in slowly. He'd known Molly awhile too, enough to say they were good friends.

"You always look great Molly." He grinned, and Molly smiled, inhaling slowly. Sherlock approached the counter. John pushed Molly forward. "Go take his order, and see what he wants." He stepped back into the kitchen, crossing his fingers, and wishing molly good luck under his breathe.

[OoO]

Sherlock usually wasn't the type to 'make friends.' Socializing had never really been his thing. He'd grown up in the Holmes mansion with just _Mycroft_ for company. That would make anybody go mad, and delirious.

John was, different though. He wasn't as utterly stupid as the rest. Well, he was, but he was different. Sherlock couldn't really explain it. He liked John though. So, he'd tried to figure out when his shifts would be.

He tried not to make it obvious, asking Mycroft to set security cameras to watch John. He hated asking Mycroft for favors. Mycroft, himself, seemed curious though, and had been watching John all around the campus on his security tapes.

In the café, Sherlock hadn't known what to say, and ended up ordering something he didn't even like. He just gave it to Mycroft, who was pleasantly surprised.

Now today, he was back again hoping to just see John. He might even talk to him today. Walking up to the counter, he looked down and saw Molly.

"Ah, Molly, this is a _pleasant _surprise." It actually wasn't. "Where did John go?" Molly's smile faltered only a moment, before it reappeared, bright as ever. Couldn't she take a hint? Sherlock felt a little uncomfortable now. He didn't deal with these situations. He could tell what liking someone was, by deduction of course. But the feelings were entirely foreign to him.

"Oh, he had some things to do. I'm taking the counter orders right now." Molly averted her eyes downward. Sherlock looked down at Molly inspecting closely.

"Are you wearing lipstick?" He asked. There was definitely lipstick. He had a class with Molly. A science class he had to take this semester. She didn't usually wear lipstick.

"I-I always wear lipstick." She stuck her chin up, eyes flashing. "W-What would you l-like to order?" She fidgeted slowly. Sherlock bent forward so he was inches in front of her.

"I'd like," He paused, watching Molly close her eyes to lean in. Sherlock instead, slipped the latch off the door, "to see John, excuse me." He walked straight behind the counter, and into the kitchens. John was talking to Gregory, and peered up in surprise at Sherlock.

John tilted his head to the side, his eyes widening. "What are you doing back here?" He questioned, shocked. Sherlock ignored him for the moment.

"Hello Lestrade, nice to see you looking well, and healthy." Sherlock smiled cockily, and awkwardly patted Lestrade's shoulder.

"Sherlock, why should I possibly let you stay back here in the kitchens? The kitchens aren't even open to the customers." Lestrade drily asked, removing Sherlock's hand from his shoulder.

Sherlock stopped a moment to think. "I can get you a job in Scotland Yard?" John coughed, and Lestrade's mouth fell open.

"I-I wasn't serious."

"So you don't want it then?"

"I didn't say that." Lestrade said defensively, arms crossed.

"I'll contact Mycroft tomorrow. I want to talk to John." Sherlock smiled, knowing he had won. Lestrade grimaced, before shrugging at John, then leaving.

"You can't just leave me here!" John yelled at Lestrade, who just made a waving motion with his hand, leaving. Irritably, John glanced up at Sherlock. "What did you need?"

"You aren't sleeping." Sherlock commented, watching John's posture slump forward slightly. Every time Sherlock saw John, he seemed to have dark splotches under his eyes, and be wobbling on his feet.

"I'm sleeping as much as the next guy." John leaned against the back wall, a yawn betraying his words.

"No, you aren't. I can tell you've been only getting, what, an hour or two of sleep?" Sherlock walked forward, sighing. "It really isn't healthy. Aren't you studying to become a doctor? You should know the signs." John made a face.

"You don't know me Sherlock. We've talked a couple times, but you don't know me. You really shouldn't care at all." John did make a fair point, but then, why was Sherlock feeling this bubble in his chest? Why did his heart thump so erratically? Why did he even care? Of course he didn't. He was only making a point.

"But, I do know you." Sherlock insisted. "I've made perfectly fair deductions based on your actions, your-"

"Then you're wrong." John whispered quietly. His face was getting paler, cheeks pinker. Sherlock's face turned sour. He didn't like being told he was wrong. Even if it was John.

"I'm never wrong." Sherlock pouted, letting his puppy face come out. John wasn't affected.

"You have to be friends with someone to make the exact right deductions. You have to know their personality, thoughts, and feelings. You can make as many deductions as you please Sherlock, but until you know the person. You'll _never_ truly be right." John wobbled a bit. "I'm off the clock. I guess I'll see you later."

Sherlock thought about John's words for a while after that. He just stood there, running it through his banks. He let his mind mull the words over. And for once, he figured he was wrong.

[OoO]

Sherlock woke up the next morning with a feeling in his lower belly. He wanted to go back to the TumblrInn. Usually he didn't go this much, but he had a nagging feeling that something would happen to John.

The walk was as usual, it was cooler today, so Sherlock wore his blue scarf. The top of the scarf kept rubbing at his upper lip, and he knew his cheeks were probably flushed a light pink. Most people said his stare was cold, and calculating. He personally thought it had softened a bit lately. Ever since he had come to Devein he had gotten a little warmer. Not that anybody really noticed or cared.

Walking into the restaurant, his brow furrowed when he noticed John wasn't there. He wasn't there as a waiter, and he wasn't behind the cash register. Was he in the kitchens? It was early morning, maybe he wasn't here yet. Sherlock walked over to his usual table, and sat down. He could wait for John to get there.

It was a couple minutes later, and Sherlock was on the edge of his seat, bored. He looked around the restaurant. Nobody was really here. He perked up visibly when he saw Lestrade. "Lestrade! Gregory!" He saw Lestrade tense up, but he kept ignoring Sherlock. "Gregory!" He stretched out the name, making it come out in highs, and lows. "Lestrade! I know you can hear me!"

"What do you want Sherlock?" Lestrade finally snapped, smacking his hands across the counters, and squeezing the edges.

"Where is John?" Sherlock asked, managing to keep his voice at a polite level. Lestrade calmed down at the question.

"He's working the café." Lestrade didn't even finish, before Sherlock was up, and heading into the direction of the Café. He opened the door that connected to the TumblrInn.

"John?" He called out, voice sounding irrelevant. He did get a little worried when no reply sounded back to him. "John, Lestrade told me to come check on you." A little white lie never hurt anyone. Well, except for that one time with Mycroft- that's not the point.

Cautiously Sherlock walked forwards towards the counter. The coffee machines were on and running. The coffee was pouring at the edges of the containers. It was like John had left them there. Suddenly a groan sounded from behind the counter. Sherlock's eyes widened a fraction, and he quickly leapt over the counter, his coat dragging along the corners.

John was on the ground, broken glass at his hand, panting. His cheeks were bright red, and the rest of him a greenish color. Sweat tinged the top of his forehead, and he was writhing. "John?" Anyone with eyes could see he was feverish.

[OoO]

John could hear something. Was it a voice? It was dark, and he hurt, and he ached. Yet, he could hear a voice. There were a couple voices now. An ambulance? But one voice was a constant. It wasn't saying much, just one word. Just his name. John.

[OoO]

**Authors Note: Thanks to all of those who reviewed, favorited, and followed my story. It makes me very happy. Remember that all of that makes me more motivated! Please tell me what you would like to see in future chapters. Question for the chapter, have you ever had to explain what a ship is to a parent, or grandparent?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors Note: Hugs to all of you. Thank you for responding to my chapter. I appreciated it a lot! I'll get right too it. I do not own Sherlock, or any of its characters. That would be Moffat, and Mark. And BBC **

[OoO]

_Clashed Principles _

Chapter 3-

The first thing he felt was something being stuck into his wrist. He just had time to know it was needle, before the darkness crowded him again. When he woke up a second time, it was quiet, and this time, no needles. He slowly blinked open his eyes, and yawned. It only took him a couple seconds to realize it was a hospital room. The white everywhere was a dead give way, along with the wretched smell of medicines.

Chairs crowded around the room, but most seemed empty. In fact, the entire room was completely empty. John lifted his arm up to brush back his hair, but stopped feeling the IV's running into his arms. He felt better than he had been these last couple days.

"John!" Suddenly someone was on him, hugging him in a death grip. He inhaled, and smiled against Molly's hair. When she pulled back, he saw she was grinning. "You have been sleeping for two days now. I thought you'd never wake up." Molly jumped up, and smoothed down her shirt. "You had me worried sick. If Sherlock hadn't found you passed out in the café, you could have gotten worse."

"Sherlock?" John questioned, but barley got another word in.

"Honestly John, you are supposed to tell people when you feel sick. You were working all those late nights, and doing your homework. It's just not healthy. Greg feels terrible about it, and-" Molly was drowned out in John's ears after that. He was too busy thinking about Sherlock. Why was Sherlock in the café? Had he passed out?

The last thing John remembered was that awful headache, and then making some coffee to perk him up a little bit. "Who's been here?" He asked, gesturing to the chairs scattered around the room.

"Steven's been here a bit. He'd dropped off your school work. Greg, and I came. Your sister Harry stopped by. Sherlock's been here the most. I think he's been worried sick. I didn't know you two were such good friends." Molly seemed curious now, sitting down on the edge of John's hospital bed.

John swallowed, mind a bit fuzzy. "We only met a little bit ago. I hardly think that makes us friends." Molly just smiled, patting John's hand.

"You could have fooled me. It's like you've known each other all your life. Oh, Mycroft stopped by too. He, and Sherlock are down in the hospital cafeteria." Molly laughed a bit. "When I was leaving, they entered arguing with, quite, vivid words." She giggled, and then pulled her hair back.

John shook his head, and couldn't help a small smile from spilling to his lips. He had already experienced the Holmes brother rivalry. It could be quite amusing. It was then that Sherlock entered, his eyebrows rising once he saw John sitting up straight in bed.

"You're awake then?" Sherlock asked. John cringed hearing the heavy exhaustion interlacing throughout his voice. Molly seemed to have stiffened, and John remembered her huge crush on Sherlock.

"Yeah, Molly, and I have been chatting. Have you too gotten the chance to talk?" John casually questioned. Molly just averted her eyes downwards. Her lips begun turning upwards at the corners. If Molly wasn't interested in Sherlock, he'd probably end liking Molly.

Sherlock's eyes flashed, and John knew he'd probably, 'deduced' what John was thinking. Sherlock nodded slyly, and John's eyes narrowed. "We haven't had the chance. Your idiotic behavior has gotten in the way of any _chatting_." His voice dripped with hard sarcasm, and John scowled. Fine, let Sherlock be that way, he wasn't worth it.

"Johnny! Your awake now are you?"

John groaned seeing his sister, Harriet, slumping against the doorframe. Her mouth was forming a lazy smile, and her eyes were glazed over. She was dead drunk, as she usually was. He suddenly remembered back to previous years, when their father had walked out on them. Harry had been so upset, and he cared for her. Their mother was there of course, but she was a pushover, and just didn't know how to handle them after that.

"Harriet," John murmured drily, throat clogging up. "What are you doing here? Where's Mum?" Harriet tilted her head to the side, her eyes clouding in confusion. Then, processing John's word, she pouted.

"I told you not to call me Harriet! Es- it's, such a girl's name!" She was completely trashed. John's cheeks reddened. He didn't like it when other people saw Harriet like this.

"You are a girl Harriet." He pointed out, glancing from the corner of his eye at Sherlock. Sherlock's expression was unreadable, but he was looking Harriet up, and down. He was no doubt figuring out her life story, from what he could tell.

Harriet sauntered into the room, now becoming an angrier drunk. "This is why I hate you John! You always have to spoil the fun. You've ruined my birthday, and you've ruined the entire week, because you just had to get sick." John was too tired to respond. For one, he knew it was not Harry's birthday. Secondly, he wasn't trying to get sick, and he certainly did not want to be here.

"I know Harry." He said, more to himself than anyone.

"Why don't Harry and I go get some coffee? Let's go Harry." Molly smiled at both John, and Sherlock, before leaving the room. She dragged Harry behind her, and Harry went right out giggling.

"I'm sorry you had to see that." John apologized softly, turning to look out the window. The sky was gray, with hardly any sky showing. He could tell it was going to rain soon.

"It's no trouble." Sherlock assured John, inspecting the hem of his coat like it was the most interesting thing in the world. And maybe it was, John didn't really know. "I've had my share of unruly siblings. Mycroft is not easily tolerated."

John had to grin at that one, and even laughed a bit. Sherlock looked at him curiously, before facing John full on. "Guess who I am," Sherlock made an annoyed expression, his nose wrinkling up. He grabbed an umbrella from the bedside table next to John. He could only assume it was Mycroft's. "I say I hold a _minor_ government position, when really the entire government is mine. I have my fancy cars, and posh umbrella, but it's really Sherlock who gets on my nerves."

John watched Sherlock, entirely amused. It was when his eyes shifted a hair upwards that he saw Mycroft leaning against the door, expression sour. "Fine, we'll play that game Sherlock."

Sherlock jumped at the sudden sound of Mycroft, but just as instantly plastered a smirk on his face. "What game Mycroft?"

Mycroft walked elegantly over to a chair with another coat draped across it. Putting it on, he turned the coat collar upwards. "I think I know everything about everyone, because of my deducing ability. I also like to shove it up in everyone's face, even though no one give's a damn. I turn my coat collar up, with no valid reason whatsoever." Mycroft smirked then, Sherlock glowered. "It's my amazing, intelligent Brother Mycroft who I owe all my respect too."

"Shut up Mycroft. I hate you." Sherlock yelled, and Mycroft just ignored him, taking off the coat. They continued bickering for the next couple minutes, and John just watched. He didn't think Sherlock actually hated his brother. He actually thought Sherlock respected him in a sort of way. He thought about Harry, and him. How they treated each other, and then shook his head.

He didn't care what Sherlock said. Sherlock was lucky to have Mycroft as his brother, even if he didn't know it.

[OoO]

Sherlock was still in the room when Lestrade came in. He'd been with John another hour or so after Mycroft thankfully left. They mostly just talked about day to day things. Neither of them had touched the subject of Sherlock helping John.

"You've missed all the excitement John." Lestrade informed John upon arrival. John brightened up quite considerably when Lestrade came in, and Sherlock felt a little upset about that. He'd been remarkable company. He'd just been telling John about the eyeballs he'd been thinking about putting in his fridge.

"So, I've heard, though I don't know what's pulled the stick out of your arse for the day." John said affectionately. Lestrade just puffed out his chest. Sherlock rolled his eyes; he knew what was making Lestrade act like that.

"I've just today joined the Scotland yard. Sherlock's brother managed to get me on." Sherlock noted the warmth that had pooled into the _Detective Inspectors_ cheeks. "I'm already a Detective Inspector, pretty high position for a novice."

"Congratulations," John grinned brightly. Sherlock felt that feeling in his lower belly again. It was sort of like happiness, but a little different. Sherlock shook it off. He'd been feeling that ever since he'd met John. He assumed it was a _John feeling_. A feeling you got just from being around John.

"I helped him you know." Sherlock's lower lip jutted out. He wanted to have John's attention. He'd been trying for a while now.

"Yes, I know, but it was Mycroft that did the work." John rolled his eyes, but still shot a smile Sherlock's way. There goes the heart thumping. That seemed a little dangerous. When one experienced increased heart-rate, was that dangerous? He'd have to experiment.

"Hey John, I need to tell you something." An unfamiliar guy walked into the room, his arms crossed on his chest. Sherlock felt a twist of bitterness. How did this guy know John?

"Steven," John muttered in surprise. "What are you doing here?" Ah, it was Moffat then. He'd briefly heard of him. Sherlock stood up, towering over Moffat. Moffat briefly rolled his eyes over Sherlock's form, not in the least intimidated.

Moffat tried to see around Sherlock, but Sherlock just blocked his way. "What are you trying to accomplish here?" Moffat raised an eyebrow. "Look, I don't want to have to kill you off or anything. So, could you please just move?" Sherlock knew the killing thing was a joke, maybe. But, with a sigh of annoyance, he moved.

"Devein is wanting their money tonight, John. If you don't have it, they aren't going to let you come back." Moffat briefly informed John. Was that so? John had never told him that. Realization came to Sherlock; he was working more because he needed the money. Stupid, Stupid, why didn't you think of that?

"I, I just need more time. I need to get out of here, and work just a bit more." John looked more upset now. Sherlock frowned when he felt upset himself. Did he and John have an emotional link? Sherlock stood up, and paced, trying to think.

"John, you know you can't work the way you are now. I certainly won't let you. Why don't you just borrow some money from me?" Lestrade suggested. He had remained quiet most of this conversation.

John paled, looking sick. "I can't do that. I guess I could go to a community for a while until I earn the money." John said a bit more, but Sherlock didn't hear. He couldn't over the sound of his heart beat through his ears. He could feel the blood turning cold in his veins. John couldn't leave, and Sherlock wouldn't let him.

He didn't know what it was, but something about John was just so different, and wonderful. Maybe it was the fact that he treated Sherlock like a human being. Maybe it was the fact that he was just so genuinely human, and didn't try to be anything else. All Sherlock knew was he couldn't lose John.

"I may have an idea that will suffice." Sherlock spoke slowly, the words coming to his mouth, before his brain could register them.

The three others in the room turned to look at him. Lestrade looked puzzled, Moffat seemed annoyed. John looked like a man clinging to his last string of hope.

"I've needed someone around lately. I've needed someone to talk to about deductions, and experiments and such. A, flat mate if you will." Sherlock's mouth ran dry, and his tongue snaked out to lick hip lips. He felt the fear of rejection coil around his entire being.

"What are you saying Sherlock?" John asked, though he seemed to know exactly what Sherlock was asking.

"John, why don't you move in with me?"

[OoO]

**Authors Note: And there you have it. Thanks to DreamsOfPari, DarkAngel466, XSommerRegen, Anitayvette94, martangirlsworld, 80f9, and Unicornandrain for reviewing this story. You have no idea how much it means to me. Those of you that answered my ship question amused me quite a bit. I think I'll be posting those that review each chapter in the author's note at the bottom from now on. This story would be nothing without my reviewers. I would love it if all my followers and the newcomers would review as well. Thank you again. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors Note: I do not own Sherlock, or any of its characters. As much as I would love to. Let's not lie, who wouldn't? Thanks to my reviewers, and followers. Your support makes this story. **

[OoO]

_Clashed Principles _

Chapter 4-

How had he gotten here? There was a warm steaming cup of tea in his right hand, and in the other was a key to his new apartment. When was the exact second he decided moving in with Sherlock was a good idea? Literally yesterday he was in his hospital bed, listening to the preposterous idea. The next second, the word yes slipped from his lips.

"Would you like some more dear?" Mrs. Hudson, his new landlady lightly touched his shoulder. John blinked, and shook his head, smiling at her kindly. Sherlock had been a great help to the police once, getting the information to make sure her husband got the death penalty.

_"You stopped her husband from being killed?" John had questioned, staring with wide eyes at Sherlock. Sherlock smirked, and shook his head. _

_ "Oh no, I ensured it." _

"Well you are looking a bit peaky dear. Are you sure you're well enough to be out of the hospital?" Sherlock was working on an experiment in the kitchen, and looked up when Mrs. Hudson spoke.

"He's fine, just trying to figure things out I believe." Sherlock glanced down at the experiment frowning. "Do you have a problem with body parts in the fridge John? It is vital to my experiment." John groaned, but nodded.

"You'll do it with or without my consent, won't you?"

"Yes." At least he was honest with John. 221B was the name of his new home. It was refreshingly bigger than the door room he shared with Steven. Steven had literally been ecstatic about John moving out, because he needed his own man space. John had just rolled his eyes.

_"Yes." John spoke quietly, and for a moment Sherlock looked utterly in shock. He looked as though he hadn't believed John would say yes. But he had, and now Sherlock was grinning. _

_ "You aren't serious?" Greg said raising an eyebrow. John raised an eyebrow back, and just shrugged. Why not? It might keep Sherlock from following him like a lost puppy. He glanced at Sherlock who was pursing his lips, eyes wide and happy. Well, maybe. _

_ "I'm not complaining. I'll have more space from now on. A man needs his space." Steven relaxed back against the wall, content. _

"I am fine Mrs. Hudson." He assured the fretful woman. She relaxed, and then hurried off out of the room.

"Take care of him Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson called as she shut the door. Sherlock made a grumble deep in his chest, his eyes flashing in amusement.

"I think it's more likely you will take of me John." Sherlock muttered. John peered at him in curiosity. "Just before you expect something. Oh, and I play the violin when I'm thinking. That won't bother you will it?"

"It's a little too late to warn me off isn't it? I just moved all my stuff an hour ago." John hissed, but in truth it didn't bother him. Sherlock must have seen that in his face, because he smiled and began humming.

John was reaching for his newspaper when there was an explosion causing the whole room to rattle. John glared back to see Sherlock, who had his hair blown back, burnt slightly. He didn't seem concerned that his hair was almost on first though. He merely shook his head at the sight. "That didn't go as planned."

John pulled the newspaper in front of his face, and smiled when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. "Sherlock, what are you doing up there? This is going on your bill!" Mrs. Hudson's voice was shrill, but Sherlock paid her no mind.

So, in all having Sherlock as a flat mate couldn't be much worse. "Jawn, Jawn-" Or maybe it could. "JAWN. I need you to answer this text for me. It keeps vibrating, and its ruining the experiment."

John got up, and stomped over to where Sherlock was. Sherlock looked utterly smug when John came over. John turned on Sherlock's phone, and looked down. "It's from Greg, and it says, they need help on a case." John could feel the excitement spark from Sherlock. "Wait, didn't Greg just become Detective Inspector? Why does he need help from you on a case already?"

"There was a little something that came with Detective Inspector Lestrade's _commission_." Sherlock answered, pulling on his coat. "He obviously has to keep attending classes, seeing as he is still in school for at least another year, and I get to help when I want. A nice little touch from Mycroft seeing as he usually isn't so kind."

"So, what does that make you, a private detective?" John asked, completely puzzled. Sherlock wrinkled his nose, and his lips pursed like the word itself left a foul taste in his mouth.

"No, nothing like that. I'm a consultant." Sherlock puffed out his chest proudly.

"Consultant?"

"Do try to keep up John. I'm a consulting detective." Sherlock reached out his hand for his mobile, and John smacked in into his hand. He felt a little satisfaction when Sherlock winced. "They consult me when they are out of there depth, which is seems is always." Sherlock was then in a rush out the door, closing it soundly.

John stood there a moment, a little pang of envy going through him. He sounded so happy when he spoke of it like that. And here John was, merely working on essays. Though he supposed one didn't come a doctor through playing around. He huffed. That's right he had better things to do. Leave Sherlock to his stupid cases, his stupid detective work, his stupid cheekbones, his stu-

"You're studying to be a doctor." Sherlock's voice flowed through the room again, eerily like a snake. John flinched, and whirled around, he hadn't seen Sherlock come back in.

"Yes, I am." He said slowly, swallowing at a lump in his throat. He could already feel the pulses of adrenaline going through his veins.

"So, you've been preparing for things like violent deaths." Sherlock fidgeted on his feet slightly.

"I've seen a couple as well."

"Want to see some more?" Sherlock questioned, absolutely giddy now.

"God yes." And they were gone.

[OoO]

"Hello freak." Sally Donovan stood at the taped off area, looking thoroughly annoyed. Sherlock almost felt an immense glee seeing her. He had known her in school a while back. He had deduced her cheating with Anderson, and his wife. Which reminded him, where was Anderson.

"Sally, pleasure as always." Sherlock spoke curtly, and then turned to John a bit. "John, this is Sally Donovan, an old friend." Sally frowned.

"Did he follow you home or something?" Sally looked at John. Sherlock felt uneasy tingles traveling through him. _Body turned, slight smile, cheeks becoming more flushed, pupils dilated. _She liked John? She wasn't supposed to like John. He glanced at John from the corner of his eye. _Easy grin, laid back posture, but he usually is like that. Hands tense at his sides, eyes dimming. He notices she's flirting. Doesn't appear to be flirting back._

Sherlock's face turned puzzled. What was flirting in a sense? He had never done it before. Nobody seemed good enough to flirt with, and it was a meaningless gesture. If he ever did like, or god forbid, love somebody. He'd be straight forward.

"Sherlock, you alright? We're allowed to go in now?" John waved a hand in front of Sherlock's face. Blinking, he nodded, and ducked under the tape, holding it up for John.

"Wait, is he allowed in there?"

"Would it be better if I waited?" John stepped back, hesitant to enter.

"No." Sherlock lifted the tape again. Watching John give a weary sigh, they both walked into the house.

There were a couple things Sherlock noticed right away, well, a lot of things. But, the things that were important remained little.

The body on the floor was a woman, probably mid-twenties. She was wearing a necklace, and on the back there appeared to be an engraving. Sherlock would have to go closer to see it. Her hand was wrapped around a bottle of antibiotics, so it was to look like she overdosed.

Lestrade chose that moment to come up to them. "That was fast Sherlock." He commented, and then saw John. "I didn't say John could come, that wasn't part of the agreement." Sherlock just scowled back at him.

"John is helping me out." Sherlock crouched down, putting on gloves. Picking up the necklace, he looked at the back of it. The engraving said 'From Mother, to Anna.' So, a personal attachment, and the necklace was regularly cleaned, showing she cared a great deal for it. The rest of the woman's jewelry was cleaned, but not as well as this necklace. If you lifted the necklace back a bit, you saw that there was a paler mark than the rest of her skin, so she wore it a lot.

"Well, it looks like the victim overdosed on drugs, but you asked me to call you the first case we got. I don't think there's much you can do Sherlock. It was a suicide." Lestrade's voice blended into the background. Sherlock allowed all background noise to melt, he needed to think.

He reached into her pockets, and pulled out a phone. Flipping it open, he saw the same number had called fourteen times. They had called continuously, until yesterday afternoon.

"John, I need you to tell me time of death." Sherlock saw John twist as though he hadn't expected to be called to the case. "Now." John sighed, but did as Sherlock asked. Inspecting a couple things, Sherlock could see John was trying to remember all he had learned from medical school.

"You do know we have a group of professional's right?" Lestrade grunted, but was ignored by the two men.

"It couldn't have been long, maybe sometime yesterday? I'm guessing around late morning, to early afternoon." John estimated, and Sherlock nodded, confirming John's guess.

The number's contact said Lizzy, and was in the department family members, so probably the sister. The cousin wouldn't have called as much. "Have any family members been in contact?" Sherlock lifted up the hand, absentmindedly asking the question.

"The only person that's been in is her sister, Elizabeth. But, she's been rather upset. Her mother committed suicide not long ago as well. " Lestrade seemed confused, but everything was becoming rather clear to Sherlock.

"Let me guess, she suspects that her Sister was so upset with her mother's death, that she committed suicide?" Sherlock questioned, amused. Lestrade nodded. Sherlock bounced on his feet. "But, this woman is married, and she has a child, maybe two. She has a wedding ring on her finger, and stretch marks at her stomach. Why would she want to commit suicide, when she seemed so happy with her life? She didn't, this was murder."

"You better not be making this stuff up." Lestrade hissed, at the same time John murmured brilliant. Sherlock smiled a bit, and gave John a grateful look, before continuing.

"I am not. She loved her mother dearly yes, and I bet her mother loved her. I need to see Elizabeth." Sherlock was already getting up though, and making his way toward the ambulance. In it was sitting a fragile girl, hunched up in a blanket. Sherlock's eyes moved up, and down, right to left.

Sherlock turned to Lestrade whispering into his ear. "The sister looks upset, first look, look closer. She isn't shaking, and she isn't frowning. She looks as though she's been crying, but not a lot. Under her nails you can see a bit of red dust, the exact color of the pills. I'm assuming she forced the pills down her sister's throat. She probably killed her mother as well."

"Why, what's the motivation of it all?" Lestrade asked. Sherlock didn't answer, and turned to John. _Come on John, your smart, figure it out. _

"Uh- maybe she didn't have a close relationship with her mother, because," John trailed off. "Because, her mother liked her sister better?"

"Exactly, that over there is the killer." Sherlock pointed to Elizabeth, who looked up. Noticing the way they were looking at her, she jumped up, trying to make an escape.

"Get her, and arrest her!" Lestrade shouted, running off with the rest of Scotland Yard. John blinked, and looked at Sherlock, who was humming.

"That was amazing." John peered at Sherlock in admiration.

"It really wasn't." Sherlock insisted, but his whole body warmed at the compliment. Nobody ever complimented him, and his work. "It was a level two at best." John rolled his eyes, and then stretched. Sherlock tried not to let his eyes trail to the bit of exposed flesh at John's hips.

"Let's go home. I'm hungry, and I have student work to do." John headed off, and Sherlock after a moment's hesitation followed. _Home?_ Home sounded nice. Home with John sounded even better.

[OoO]

**Authors Note: Sorry this chapter took so long. School has just started so chapters will be a bit slow coming from now on. Remember though, reviews are great motivation! **

**I'd like to thank RoseyMulvey, 8of9, martiangirlsworld, Anitayvette94, and shonny girl, for reviewing this chapter. All the reviews made me smile! Please tell any ideas for future chapters, or tell me how this chapter was. Until next time, love you guys! **


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